


The Temple Dancer

by cozycitywitch



Category: Ballerina | Leap! (2016)
Genre: Ballet, F/M, Pining, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, Unrequited Crush, backstory fic, fill in the blanks, it depends on if I decide to continue this, kind of not really, maybe unrequited maybe not up to you, what even are feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-04-28 09:43:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14446572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozycitywitch/pseuds/cozycitywitch
Summary: I tried





	The Temple Dancer

**Author's Note:**

> I tried

Odette/Louis Mérante

They’d known each other since the beginning, neither really remembering that first meeting. It never really felt like a first, more like the other was always there, and had always been there. Since Odette was a little girl she remembers prancing around the Orchestra as if it were her own home. And in those early memories, Mérante was not far out of focus. He was older than her, but they both attended classes, individually and in partner dance. He was magnificent in every performance and took Odette’s breath away even in their youth, before she’d come to truly find her dancing legs.

He was there in the boys class, ready to begin right after hers finished. Untying his boots to change into the male ballet slippers in the hall or standing by the door as she left. She would catch his eye on occasion, but they never acknowledged one another. She was sure he had seen her dance sometimes, waiting with the other boys. She wondered what he thought of her dancing.

For many years it was an orbital path - Odette being aware of Mérante but never coming into contact. He was older and more talented and had many friends in his class that she was much too intimidated by to inject herself into his circle. So she spent her younger years building friendships from the girls class, until she moved up to advanced, and well into her teens.

He was there in the partner classes they shared, though he usually was paired up with someone from his same age group. That didn’t stop Odette from paying attention though. She silently envied the girl he spun, wishing her partner had the level of finesse she so often noticed in Mérante’s dancing. Instead she spun on a strange axis and wavered side to side. In order to correct her partners hasty turns and lack of control she’d have to work her own leg muscles even harder to keep the balance she should be relying on her partner for. It was for these reasons partner classes were her least favorite.

He was there in the studio next to hers, practicing on his own after class or after hours. Odette knew this because on one occasion she stopped by to clean the room, only to discover it occupied. He had paused mid-dance, gracefully landing a pas de chat and spinning to address her. His voice was deep and soothing once he spoke.

“Sorry, did you need the room?” He’d asked with the upturn of a brow. Odette found herself blushing, wishing she hadn’t been spotted so easily so that she could watch the completion of the dance.

“No, no!” Odette waved her hands in front of her signaling her retreat. “Just seeing if the room was open. Sorry to disturb you.” She hastily backed out the way she came before she could hear his response.

She returned the next day to the front of the door, about to peer in around the same time to check if Mérante had made of habit of practicing at this time, and if she should come back later. Curiously, however, the door was already slightly ajar. There were soft, elegant notes slipping out through the crack, and Odette could hear the gentle thump of ballet shoes hitting the polished wood. Perhaps he had left the door open today so that he wouldn’t be disturbed the same way he was yesterday. Yes, that made sense.

Odette decided to peer into the room, just to check if it was in fact Mérante inside, then she would be on her way. He was dancing beautifully, spinning fast and moving with controlled purpose. It was moments watching him like this that Odette would remember why he was considered the most talented dancer at the Opera Garnier. She was able to place the music after a moment - from La Bayadere - the most upcoming performance in their company.

Mérante was dancing the part of Solar, a young warrior betrothed to a princess he did not love. Odette could easily recognize the steps and the music, but there was something in the way Mérante moved that changed everything about the dance. She was following along mentally the step of Nikiya, and when the music swelled to the moment she was suppose to enter, suddenly Mérante began moving in a completely different direction. Odette’s eyes widened, watching the young man move breathlessly into a new sequence, without the duet.

These were steps Odette did not recognize, and she wondered if Mérante developed this choreography himself, or if there was an alternate version out there somewhere that the troupe had been practicing and she’d been unaware of. It was amazing how he made the music his own, and the steps became part of him. Odette almost enjoyed this version more than the original. Mérante spun around the other side of the room, and out of sight from her, so Odette pushed the door ever so slightly more ajar to continue watching.

She gave it the smallest of pressures, but the squeak of the hinge was not generous to her and let out a high pitched groan. She immediately ducked out of the doorway and ran as light as her en point toes could carry her down the hall and into another room, out of sight. She could hear Mérante making his way to the door, and disappear right before she heard the hinge complain once more with Mérante’s entrance into the hall. She breathed heavily on the other side of the changing room door, her heart racing.

Those visions of Mérante’s unique movements haunted her the following days, and found herself unable to meet his eye or look his direction for some time after that. Even if she was fairly sure he hadn’t caught her spying, her embarrassment kept her from visiting the practice room again for quite a while.

He was there on the steps of the entrance to the Opera, waiting for something, but Odette was unsure of what. She was late in changing out of her practice clothes and was running behind on her after lesson duties. The floors were supposed to be the next chore on her list, but seeing Mérante standing there, she couldn’t bring herself to show him just how she was able to afford taking classes at the Opera.

Instead, Odette moved washing the steps down to the last thing on her to-do list. She turned and headed back the way she came from, tiptoeing as carefully as she could to not draw undue attention. She would check in every hour or so, but for some reason Mérante was still there, waiting. Odette wondered if someone was late walking him home, or else why would he still be here? Now that she thought about it, she’d never seen how Mérante got home… He always left with a bit of the after lessons crowd. They never crossed paths while leaving, except tonight, when Odette was late.

She tried to not think about it too much, and if her heart gave a little flutter each time she returned to the lobby only to see Mérante still standing there, that was her business and no one else’s. Eventually, once the sun was well below the horizon and the rest of the city was readying for bed, Odette returned to the lobby with one last task for the night. It had been an hour or so since she’d last checked in, and Mérante was still there at that time, but between then and now, he’d left. Whoever he was waiting for must have shown up. For that Odette was grateful he had somewhere to go.

Quickly Odette set to work on the stairs, trying not to hurry but knowing she had to be prepared for class in the morning with a good night’s rest. She didn’t have too much to do, so the task went fast. Finally, she was able to pack up and return home for the night. Her mother was still at work when she arrived at the apartment, so she dug through her bag for the key. Supper had thankfully been left out for Odette, and she gulped down the meal then readyed herself for sleep.

* * *

 

The students of the boy’s class all had their own theories about the shy and talented ballerina in the youth class. Some thought she was a hidden princess, and that’s why no one saw her outside of lessons. Some said she was a secret spirit haunting the Opera, and that’s why she was so good - she never stopped training because she didn’t sleep. Her beauty was too ethereal to be of this world - His fellow classmates would comment. But Mérante had his own theories about the strong and graceful Odette. She worked too hard to be a princess; her hands looked rough from hard work (he’d know. He’d spent hours watching them caress the sky during their partner class together), and her expressions were too full of emotion - pain, sorrow, joy, fatigue - to be anything but real.

They would whisper in the halls about her as she passed, or openly stare while she performed, but Odette never seemed to notice. Her entire being was fully immersed in her performance where she shut out the rest of the world and just danced. But as much as Mérante tried find a time when they could cross paths, she was never there.

She wasn’t there in the girls class, once he’d finally graduated from taking lessons. Mérante wasn’t quite ready to leave such a prestigious company, and once he’d been promoted to le pime dansuar, he didn’t have much reason to hang around the lesson areas anymore. There was one occasion he could remember where they danced alongside one another. It was during the La Bayadere performance a few years ago. Mérante had the part of Solar, and Odette, still a bit too young to be considered for either leading lady role, played the part of Anya, a servant.

However, the dancer for Nakiya’s role was out sick one night for rehearsals, and Odette took per place as her understudy. Usually the understudies practiced at a different time than the leads and worked with each other. Mérante recognized his understudy as the boy from his partner dance classes who usually paired up with Odette. He liked that class the most, because it was the longest he could spend around Odette without feeling like he was spying on her while she moved. Her partner wasn’t nearly as talented as herself, but Odette made him look much better at his role than he was by taking on most of the responsibilities for balancing herself. No one except for the truly skilled dancers would be able to even see the differences, but Mérante could.

True she was younger than himself, but she just as well should have been in the advanced classes, dancing in his age bracket. Everyone in the boys class thought so, from the gossip he’d picked up, so it was quite the mystery it seemed to all but the instructors for why she didn’t dance beside them.

He just happened to be waiting around after lessons to go out with friend before rehearsal when he noticed Odette dancing the steps of Nakiya. He gaped openly when he spotted her in full performance mode. She was elegant and poised, strong and fluid. Instead of waiting for his friend, Mérante ended up taking a seat in the back few rows of the auditorium to watch the entirety of the understudy practice session.

Half way through, it became even more clear that Odette should be dancing with someone who could match her in skill, instead of wasting her strength making up for her partner’s inadequacy. The understudy performance was coming to a close and the first call dancers were beginning to trickle in for their rehearsal. When Odette struck her final pose, Mérante clapped politely with the rest of the dancers. However, enthralled with her performance, he forgot to warm up himself. When their choreographer called for the leads to take their places, he hastily made his way to the back rooms to change. If Odette stuck around long enough to watch rehearsal - even if she never did - he didn’t want to make a fool of himself.

He was late to the stage, which was rare for him. He’d run all the way through the building so he was breathing hard when he finally made it to the auditorium. He’d lept onto the stage without much preamble, only to run right into the back of his costar. Except it wasn’t Antonia on the stage with him. She’d just kept herself from toppling over when she turned to face Mérante. If it were anyone else, he’d expect a cross remark about his gracelessness. But upon seeing Odette’s face, he was surprised to see that was not the case. She simply ducked her head and moved out of his path.

“Sorry, I didn’t look where I was going,” he said to her in what he hoped was a kind voice. Odette simply smiled, not even giving him the honor of hearing her melodic voice. Mérante sighed and turned away, but once he focused back onto the task at hand, he was once again wondering why it was Odette on stage. Of course the answer came a moment later when their choreographer announced Antonia, the leading part of Nikiya, was struggling through a deep sickness tonight.

Mérante gulped harshly at the realization that he’d be dancing with Odette tonight. However, he was a professional, and would try not to let his fleeting crush interrupt the things he needed to work on for the performance. They took it from set one, and slowly progressed through the first act. When it finally came time for Odette and Mérante to dance together, he found his hands beginning to sweat. This wasn’t like dancing with Antonia, where he was familiar with her style and the exact weight and shape of her. This was something deeper. He could tell because once their eyes met, he felt a shock of electricity bounce through his heart. She was gazing at him with the softest of eyes, humble in how she approached him and shy with her hello.

That changed once the music started. They began running towards one another to meet in the middle for an embrace, only for Odette to stop just a breath from him pausing without the slightest of wavers despite the momentum. The feeling of them dancing together was charged. She looked away from him once they started, ever the professional, but he couldn’t take his eyes away. He felt bolstered by her confidence, and she knew the choreography just as well as if she had the part of Nakiya since the beginning.

They fell into one another just as the steps demanded, and Mérante discovered he never wanted to dance like this with anyone else. It wouldn’t feel this real ever again. He danced better that night than he ever had, emboldened by their connection, and he hoped beyond hope that Odette felt it too. She was always respectful with her touches, always gentle yet determined during those fleeting presses together. Mérante had no such reservations and threw his whole self into the dance. He was smiling by the end of it - the clapping of the rest of the troupe the only thing to break the spell he had fallen into. Odette immediately dropped her arms from around him and took several steps back. Mérante sighed again, but faced his director.

“Brilliant, Mérante! I’ve never seen such passion from you!” their choreographer called. Mérante blushed, but covered his surprise by clearing his throat. “And dear Odette,” he went on, “If only you were older, darling, you’d make the perfect Nakiya.” Mérante silently agreed. Every practice since then felt bland in comparison, and Mérante, to his dismay, discovered Odette was the only one who could be the Nakiya to his Solar if he wanted to show the world his heart. He tried as hard as he knew, to the encouragement of his director, but there was only one girl he could share his whole heart with. In compensation for his lack of emotion, Mérante’s technical skill only improved.

She wasn’t there in the girls class once he’d moved on from being the Prime Dansour. He was still young, but his passions were more easily found imagining the steps than actually performing them. He attributed that discovery to Odette herself, never quite finding his center again emotionally the same way he did before. It was like he’d been dancing through a fog, and once he danced from his heart, the air had cleared and he hadn’t been able to find that light since.

It was no matter really though, because imagining himself dancing with a certain partner was what sparked his real passion. He began instructing the younger girl’s and boy’s class while his predecessor was making his way out of the dancing world. Missur Fancies was too conservative in his dance style, and the Opera encouraged a newer and younger professional to take his place in order to keep interest and inspire the younger generations to join ballet.

Of course, Odette had grown into her role as Prima Ballerina since then. Mérante was pleased that he wasn’t even the one to grant her that title. That way he knew it wasn’t just his emotions seeing her talent, but the rest of the dancing world knowing she was the best. And the part that drew Mérante even closer to her was that throughout the competitive years of rising to be the best, Odette remained humble. She never stepped on another dancer’s toes, and treated every dancer the same no matter their title. Mérante respected her all the more for it. She was everything a dance company would ever desire for their prima ballerina. A part of him was mournful that he hadn’t stayed on as Prime Dansour if only for the sake of being her partner for a time. However if he wanted his choreographic career to advance, it was best to get a head start.

Once Missour Francis had finally retired, Mérante became responsible for training all of the dancers at the Opera, including the teen group. Odette was now in the prime of her career, and would only improve from where she was. Mérante couldn’t help the excitement he felt on his first day of walking into class to see her warming up on the barre. He felt nervous for the first time in his life, and wanted to chalk it up to his new responsibilities, but one moment of eye contact from Odette and that falsity held no further baring in his mind.

He was slow to start class, but through training for the position and warming up his career with the younger dancers, Mérante found a good pace as choreographer for the Opera Gentia. It was a good few years, and Mérante was content in his position and his relationship with Odette as master and student. She was driven even more so than he’d thought from their youth, and accepted each and every critique or challenge. Most often, she even surpassed expectations and mastered steps well before the rest of her class. But the most talented she became, the more she seemed like a statue to Mérante. She was ivory - soft and pale, but flawless in each wave of the hand. She was marble, cold and calculated and so elegant it was a priceless sight. She was clay, still mouldable enough to be made into the artist’s, or her master’s vision.

There was one girl in her class that caught Odette’s attention, Mérante had noticed. They became fast friends for reasons he couldn’t comprehend, and while Mérante was quick to move on from the more lacking ballerina, Odette was patient. One day he just coming in for the morning to set up class when he walked past a practice room housing the two friends. Odette was teaching the other teen a complicated move, and was encouraging her through each breakdown of the part. Mérante couldn’t linger too long, but suddenly felt unreasonably jealous of the talentless child who was able to hold Odette’s attention longer than any before her. The following class period, Mérante wasted no time sharing his thoughts on the girl’s dancing.

“You have the energy of a bullet, but the lightness of a depressed elephant.” He scolded in what he thought was a reasonably stern tone, but upon speaking the phrase, he heard a graceless snort rise from someone down the line. When he looked toward the noise, he was surprised to see Odette of all people covering her mouth, trying to hide a smile. This brought a few other girls to stifle their own giggles, and Mérante had to turn away to hide his smile. He tapped his cane once against the hardwood and the giggles promptly stopped. If it were anyone else in the class he would have been harsh to silence them, but Odette shocked him just enough that he didn’t feel like he’d be taken seriously if they could hear the smile in his voice. So he figured the cane would have to suffice.

The next day he could hear through a practice room door Odette and her friend giggling repeatedly the phrase “don’t be an elephant, don’t be an elephant!” to one another. It must have helped, because the girl improved significantly after that. Mérante learned the girl’s name was Abella, and though he had little hope for her as being anything but a background dancer, a few months later she was suddenly the second best student in the class. He could only assume Odette had something to do with that.

Once before everyone was dismissed from class, Mérante felt the need to ask Odette to stay after. She said goodbye to Abella for the night and waited with Mérante for the other students to leave. He turned to her once the door closed, not wasting any time, decided to be blunt.

“You’re using up too much time and energy giving Abella outside lessons.” he said. Odetta looked started by his declaration. She just looked at him for a moment, then lowered her eyes. He sighed at this. Ever since they’d known each other, Odette was never exactly open with him, and he didn’t even know if they could consider each other friends. “But you do seem happier for it,” he admitted with defeat. He didn’t think it was wise to say much else. If he told her he ‘noticed’ things that might cross a line that he was overly aware existed.

Odette seemed off put by this though, and glanced up with confusion on her features. “There’s more to me than dancing,” she’d said. Mérante wanted to hastily agree and backtrack out of the conversation, but it was too late and he didn’t want this misunderstanding to make things awkward. “It’s okay for me to make friends sometimes.” She finished, then seemed to gather herself to leave. Mérante didn’t stop her, but before she made it completely out of the room, he turned and addressed her.

“Many people would feel honored to be your friend, Odette,” Myself especially, he didn’t say. “You’re not alone here.” She looked up at him then, half her body turned grasping the door handle and the other half angled towards him. She made eye contact and Mérante was struck with that electric sensation he’d felt the first time they danced together. Then Odette smiled, turned, and left. It seemed they had a completely different conversation than the one he intended to have, but thinking back on it, he wasn’t sure what conversation he wanted to have in the first place. Did he want to simply tell her she was wasting time? That dancing is more important than everything else?

Mérante tended to practice his own dancing early in the morning before all other classes began or before any students arrived. He liked how the sun would stream through the windows right after sunrise. The room would still be a bit chilly from the night, but warmed quickly with sun rays peeking through the glass and carpeting the studio in a warm glow. Sometimes he played the piano, but for spring dawns he preferred to stretch out in his dancing attire bright and early then change for work later. He was rarely disturbed at that hour, but sometimes he could just strain to hear a subtle tapping sound of dancing shoes against the floors right outside the room.

Mérante figured it was the cleaning staff and for the most part ignored the noises. He left the door open to the room though just in case they needed to clean while he was working, but they never intruded. In fact for the most part no one saw the cleaning staff except for the caretaker, who had been there even longer than Mérante.

There was however, one morning where Mérante had been working on an old routine, trying to find inspiration for the next program, when he landed to the sound of a crash outside the door. Worried someone had injuried themselves (it sounded like a nasty fall), he quickly made his way out of the room only to see the tail end of a skirt flit around a bend in the hall.

“Hello? Are you alright?” He asked, following the trail. When he rounded the corner, however, the woman was nowhere to be seen. He was tempted to look in a few of the rooms, some of them were designated for ladies changing areas though so he disregarded that idea and instead walked to the end of the hall to look down into the lobby. There was no one there, even after he called out. Classes still didn’t start for an hour or so so it made sense that the building was practically deserted. Mérante shrugged, still confused but figured if someone was truly hurt they’d respond to him, and made his way back toward the practice room.

When he returned though, the room was suddenly occupied. He opened the door to Odette sitting in the middle of the floor in her practice clothes stretching in the morning sun. He stopped himself from thinking about how radiant she looked by clearing his throat, which naturally drew her eye.

“Good morning, missure.” She said politely. “What are you doing here so early?” She asked the question innocently enough, but something about her demeanor made Mérante suspect she knew exactly why he was there, and had known for some time. “And what are you wearing?” she tacked on just as she turned to stretch her quads. Mérante let out a surprised half laugh half scoff, his eyebrows touching his hairline in a bit of disbelief.

“I wear this when I practice. You don’t expect me to wear a three piece suit when I dance do you?”

“I mean, it’s not like I haven’t seen you do that before either…” she quickly shot back. Mérante couldn’t remember a time Odette had ever acted so friendly with him, but he was admiring the spark in her attitude this morning. “That outfit has to be at least ten years old.” And that sealed the deal on Mérante trying not to feel old around the younger woman. He frowned, but went back to his spot of the floor where he was practicing before.

“It’s a classic ensemble.” He grumbled out with controlled poise. He could practically hear Odette rolling her eyes, but they both knew he wasn’t actually too upset by the jest. “Besides I could ask you the same - you’re early. In the mood for some extra practice?”

Odette just hummed, then made her way to the barre. Mérante smiled feeling emboldened by her playfulness. He made his way to the music player in the corner and set the needle on the music he was listening to before he was interrupted. Soft trickles of one of his favorite compositions flowed out from the player. It was the final duet to La Bayadere. He hoped he wasn’t being too obvious, playing a song from the program where they’d first danced together. But he was listening to it even before she arrived, and he was in the mood for pressing close to some boundaries.

Odette only paused for a moment in her warmup, and if Mérante hadn’t been watching her so closely, or wasn’t use to watching her close enough to notice, he wouldn’t have seen the hesitance in her shoulders, or the brief stifining in her neck. But he did see it, because he knew what to look for. He could do this though, he’d just have to navigate carefully and not share too much. Mérante had wanted to share this dance with her for too long though, the least he could award himself was dancing the melody of his favorite song in her presence in the hopes she would feel compelled to join in.

To his complete surprise however, Odette moved away from the barre in such a swift movement only she could master, to begin the steps to the somber dance from the final act. In the scene, Solar is dancing with a vision of Nakiya, who was murdered by Solar’s betrothed wife. It’s a sad melody, and bittersweet compared to the morning light, juxtaposed to Odette’s soft features. She really was a vision, except instead of the pale and haunting personification of Nikiya that was usually portrayed in the ballet, Odette made the role look almost hopeful, instead of the desperate hopelessness he’d known from his time dancing along to this music. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Odette knew the steps, she was Nakiya’s understudy after all back then, but he was still pleased she remembered the steps so exactly.

“Watch the entrance to the Grade jete,” he called out over the music. She landed it just fine, but he felt the need to have a role right now instead of simply watching. After a few beats where the space next to her felt a bit too empty, Mérante soon began to move along to the music. He tried to copy her projected mood of almost accepting instead of resisting death. It made the dance softer, sweeter, like giving in. He was careful to join the place where the two of them were meant to be apart. Odette was on the other side of the room now, spinning calmly, not yet recognizing that Mérante had matched her pace. She had a brief lunge through the middle, and he turned to meet her, and before he knew it, they were only a few feet apart, turning around another. When Odette finally broke herself out of her dancing revier, she startled upon seeing him move before her. The dance wasn’t especially romantic, more sad and longing normally. But in this dance, it felt like two friends coming together after a long distance apart. Odette barely hesitated when the music rose to the part where they finally touched again, and she grabbed his arm with a sure determination that they were in fact, dancing together, and even if they had only done it once, she trusted him not to drop her.

And he didn’t - he lifted her by the waist and they spun. And when she touched back down onto the hardwood floor, they turned together, and leapt together, and held onto each other where the choreography told them to. In between one moment and the next, something deep within Mérante slotted into place, and there it was - that feeling he had been missing for so long. It felt like light inside his chest, straining out to meet the morning sunshine. They connected eyes and suddenly he felt locked in to the dance. They didn’t break eye contact again unless they had to for a position, but maintained it again as soon as they were facing one another. Mérante’s heart began to flutter.

It was in the final sequence of the dance that the mood then shifted. What was carefree and a bit daunting or accepting suddenly became richer in texture. The dance felt heavy with purpose or expectation, and when they came together and held hands, or when he spun Odette between his hands, they lingered just a touch too long. They were tired, and breathing heavier, so in turn, he could feel Odette react to his breath on her neck as he stood behind her. There was only a few more steps, and then the final pose where Solar was meant to hold Nikiya’s fading body in his arms, head against her chest and lowering them to the ground, but when Mérante shifted his hands to begin the final turn, Odette stopped abruptly, throwing him off balance.

He hadn’t even realized how much they were relying on each other throughout the dance to balance each other out until it was swiftly torn out from under him like a rug and he swayed off kilter. It took him touching a hand to the wood and taking a knee to right himself, and then he was standing, turning to face Odette with confusion on his lips.

Odette had taken a few steps back from him and seemed to be catching her breath. She looked calm and anyone else who didn’t know her well enough would assume she was just tired, but Mérante looked into her eyes and saw skittishness. He’d crossed the line he’d been trying to simply graze against. He should have known better than to get too close to it, lest it all fall apart. He was about to open his mouth, not even sure of what he was going to say, just that he needed to say something when the click of a door handle resounded to break the tense atmosphere of the room. Mérante’s head whipped around to see one of his students peeking in.

“Missure, Mérante? Can I come in?” Mérante fixed his posture and stood straight, then cleared his face of everything but his teaching mask.

“Of course, Linnet. Class will start soon.” Linnet smiled at him and walked over to the cubby to place a few things then set down to tie her ballet shoes. Before Mérante could even spare Odette a glace, she had made her way to the door and was out of the room, leaving nothing but the memory of insecurity in her eyes. Mérante let out a deep sigh he felt seeping from his very skeleton, then exited through the other door to his private office, where he would change to instruct the next class.


End file.
